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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663889">red doesn't suit you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowflake777/pseuds/snowflake777'>snowflake777</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Artist Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Gay Keith (Voltron), Heavy Angst, Hurt Keith (Voltron), I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Has Abandonment Issues, Lance (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Lance (Voltron) Has Self-Esteem Issues, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Ocean, Pining Lance (Voltron), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soft Keith (Voltron), Soft Keith/Lance (Voltron), Waltzing, What Have I Done, im not that cruel, okay maybe i am cruel, they're all okay at the end</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:55:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowflake777/pseuds/snowflake777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance mindlessly throws a piece of dead coral to the rippling waves. The breeze should be shivering his spine in the middle of the night, but he’s all too warm and cold and the same time from his growing heartache in a wrong way.</p><p>He hugs his knees closer, remembering his last words. Dusts of sand digs in his feet.</p><p>“I’ll always be with you.”</p><p>The words echoed and repeat like a broken disc within the hollow of his mind. As if by doing that, some magic would happen and he’ll be back again, like they used to be.</p><p>“You promised,” he says, barely above whisper, “you promised me.”</p><p>The waves crashes to a nearby cliff as palm trees rustles far behind him. He laughs to himself. not believing what just came out of his mouth.</p><p>“What am I thinking. There’s no way you’d keep you words if something as stupid as death is around.”</p><p>Or</p><p>Keith died in a car crash. Lance has abandonment issues and he wonders why Keith was obsessed with the color blue until he finds out that Keith has been hiding something from him for all their lives.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith &amp; Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>121</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>red doesn't suit you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>me: ima write something SHORT and SWEET. Okay.</p><p>me now: . . .</p><p>this was inspired by a random otp prompt i saw in the internet but i forgot where it is.</p><p>I recommend you to hear "So Close" by Jon McLaughin first before reading this, but at the same time I don't recommend you because of feels. So I guess it's up to you.</p><p>MAKE SURE you read the tags. There might be some triggering content for you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lance mindlessly throws a piece of dead coral to the rippling waves. The breeze should be shivering his spine in the middle of the night, but he’s all too warm and cold and the same time from his growing heartache in a wrong way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hugs his knees closer, remembering his last words. Dusts of sand digs in his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll always be with you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words echoes and repeat like a broken disc within the hollow of his mind. As if by doing that, some magic would happen and he’ll be back again, like they used to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You promised,” he says, barely above whisper, “you promised me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The waves crashes to a nearby cliff as palm trees rustles far behind him. He laughs to himself, not believing what came out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What am I thinking. There’s no way you’d keep you words if something as stupid as death is around.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But I could haunt you in the afterlife.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re in heaven already, stupid,” he murmurs at the memory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lied to his friends, to Hunk, Pidge, Allura, Coran, even in Shiro’s dad-talks about how he moved on. It’s been years since the day of the accident, of course he should be back to the normal Lance, right? Or at least he feels like he should because it’s what Keith would’ve wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The ocean always reminds me of you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why?” He blinked to the restless sea. “Don’t tell me it’s my eyes. That’s so cheesy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He laughed fondly. “No, silly, not just your beautiful eyes. The ocean is mysterious, full of unknown treasures deep in it. It always bring a sense of calm no matter who the person is, no matter what time it is.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re saying that I’m mysterious?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kind of.” He points to the horizon line. “No matter how much people know about you, you’re always full of surprises. I like your surprises. You’d think I’m weird, but it calms me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But you’re the one who’s full of surprises.,” he kept his thoughts locked inside his mouth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith is— was always weird. From the very beginning of their first meeting at the Garrison University, he always had this magnetic field around him that Lance couldn’t help but be drawn into. (AKA faked rivalry). Is it the unexpected sappy side of him whenever they’re alone? Is it the unwavering whiplash of determination he admired from him? Is it his gentle smile and careful touch that seems to be only reserved for Lance?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he wasn’t careful when he threw a handful of damp sand-ball to Lance’s face, challenging him. He closed his eyelids just in time the impact hit. They ended up fighting a competitive sand-ball fight, in which ended up Hunk and Pidge joining each side and Shiro almost scolding them about how they could hit someone and hurt them before he got hit himself in the face by Lance who admitted he was aiming for Keith. Shiro beat them all in only a few seconds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance smiles at the memory. He hears the laughters and footsteps running around like he’s back, sweating in sand, chasing Keith and Hunk in the water under the bright sun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re the one who’s like the ocean, Keith, not me.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wanted to say too, but Keith was the first one to open his mouth and brought out a little velvet box in front of their intertwined hands. It looked purple in front of the moonlight. His face was covered in sand, but Lance could see how red he was and he’s pretty sure he washed off all the sand of him clean with his tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time they got back to the hotel, everyone welcomed and congratulated them with a surprise party in Lance and Keith’s room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morning stabs his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wake up, sleepy head, you’re going to be late for work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blinks the blurry sleep away. Pidge is standing in front of the blinding window, hands on both of their hips with a frustrated look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Coffee ran out again?” He grunts at his stiff back as he sits up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Apparently. Get your ass ready right now or you’ll have to take the bus because my exhibition isn’t going to wait for you for staying up late at the beach.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright, I’m up.” He creeps out of the covers to the bathroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pidge started to live with him— </span>
  <em>
    <span> barged </span>
  </em>
  <span> in his house since Lance became all alone there, saying that it’s closer to a convenient store that sells their favourite coffee brand or that they could quietly work on their project, compared to their loud neighbors in the apartment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what’re ya gonna do in the weekend?” Hunk puts a hand on Lance’s to slow him down. “You’ll choke yourself if you eat that fast, pal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance swallows his mouthful of omelette. “No way, I’m not going to miss a speck of rice of this meal before getting late to work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Oh, thanks.” Hunk beams.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t made any plans for tomorrow. Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I kind of planned a dinner here with the group and forgot to ask you about it. Oh God, I’m so sorry, Lance. Do you need more time alone? I mean, you kinda look exhausted last night. But I’m making cheesecake for everyo—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hunk, you’re the best. How could I say no to that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? I really, really appreciate that, pal.” He stands up with his empty plate to the kitchen. “It’s been awhile since we ate together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nearly snorts his food. “Yeah, the last time, Keith totally flipped when I stole his chicken. He was so mad, he didn’t let me see any of his art for days.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hunk chuckles with him, but it sounded off. “Oh, yeah, I remember you calling me four in the morning to talk to him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hunk moved in along with Pidge, bringing along warm hugs and supportive food everyday. He doesn’t know how to properly express his gratitude for their company and help except for actually getting better, even if they all know it would take a long time. Maybe never.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, by the way, is that sound coming from your car?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance almost chokes on his food— coughing a few times, but he manages to finish it before Pidge steps on the gas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The car ride is a comfortable silent. A quiet hum of the car driving through roads. Pidge’s occasional rambles about their latest invention that’s going to blow people’s mind. The clouds passing through the opened window.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re the sky.” Keith said as he laid down on the picnic blanket.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lance joined him. “Why, husband?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He heard Coran shouting victory for finally flying his kite and Allura applauding beside him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blue skies. That’s what they were showered with at their wedding day, and tears too. Lance couldn’t stop crying at the vows. He’d cried so hard he’s sure nobody but Keith had understood what he’d been saying.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’d been a simple, intimate wedding. Where only their best friends and relatives— well, it was mostly of Lance’s family and Lance’s family’s families… But Keith seemed to have a wonderful time meeting every single one of them that he hadn’t met yet. After all, they’re his family now. Keith was no longer alone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keith’d looked stunning in that black suit, with his jet black hair gelled back. Lance already ruined his light makeup upon seeing him right here and there, and probably his clean white suit. Yet despite that, it had been a perfect, magical day. As cheesy as he could be, he couldn’t help but at least describe it that way.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anxious morning. Tears spilled. Bouquet thrown. Wild party. And at the end, only the two of them cuddling each other in a heap of drained energy by the day.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lance would take the narrator's mic and announce “And they lived happily ever after” if he could.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Because, husband, no matter how dark it can be, I can’t take my eyes off of it.” He takes his eyes off of the sky above him to look into Lance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But, you just did, my love.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, I did not, dumb dumb.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn, more than ten years with this mullet boy and Lance still can’t stand but have butterflies bursting out of his body because of him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re awfully sap today.” He smiles.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t help it. I love blue.” Keith smiles back immediately like he always did. “Blue always reminds me of you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what do you think?” Pidge asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The parts of the car slowly comes into his view again. He only caught parts of their words, but he knew what they’re talking about. “You’d never apply for this event if you weren’t so sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess, but an opinion or two from my friends wouldn’t hurt.” They turn the car around to stop in front of Lance’s workplace. “Shoo, and don’t forget to buy my usual coffee and Hunk’s  grocery list for tomorrow’s feast after work.” They hand out a folded piece of paper to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pidge, it’s literally beside my building and you have my car.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be here around fifteen minutes after you’re done shopping, including tidying things up and my way here, I swear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes the note with a sigh. “Fine, but you’re returning my money for your coffee.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Deal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance was about to walk in when he found the right words to answer and turns to them again. “Hey, Pidge.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your invention will change lives.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They laughed at his weird remark, but gives him a grateful look nonetheless. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Blue always gives me the courage to live.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After dragging all the bags outside the store, he slides down to the floor against the wall and texted Pidge that he’s done. He put back his phone in the pocket to drink in the quiet busy lives around him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cars passes by one by one. He wonders if one of the headlights were his car and Pidge in it. People come and go from the store and in front of him. The sunset poured contrast orange light to the his side of the earth. Opposite to what he sees, the air is chilly and crickets starts to wakes up their sounds. Nighttime is coming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders what it would feel like to be in Keith’s situation. All alone in the dark with no where to go. Cold breaking his bones while he shivered, soaked wet with all kinds of liquid. The electric shock of pain when he struggled to wiggle out, finding out his side is attached to something that’s not supposed to be there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Being alone in the dark, with no one to reach because of Lance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s all his stupid fault for letting him go there alone. If only he noticed there’s something wrong with him in the phone call, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lance had to be so occupied of his stupid insecurities and stupid fears of losing him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance grabs a handful of his hair to prevent his fists flying elsewhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No more blue skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith wouldn’t find it pretty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How about the sunset?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keith looked up from the coupled mugs rack through the glass door of the convenience store. The sky is a gradient of orange and light blue between clouds.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s beautiful, but red doesn’t suit you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s orange.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There are some shades of red there.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alright, alright, you’re the artist here. But red suits you, actually.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keith hummed thoughtfully. “It does? I haven’t thought about it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, you’re passionate in everything you do. Sometimes, I feel like I could get burnt by all of those flames.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Really?” He smirked. “I thought  you’d get turned on instead.” For the love of God his upturned lips burned Lance on spot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pidge's honk startles him. He gathers all the bags and heaves it in one go into the car.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See? I told you I’d get here on time. My calculations are never wrong.” They say with a proud look behind those thick glasses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had been on his side a second ago, talking about whether they should buy the socks or not.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keith?” He whipped his head to every direction. Bodies passed by, blocking his vision. They’re bustling about. None of them are Keith. “Buddy, where are you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Footsteps. Giggles. Sighs. The cart’s wheels squeaking. Plastic wrappings. All the voices went too loud, muddling together in his head. He couldn’t see Keith. He couldn't hear him. Usually, he would call out for Lance, but he didn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the back of his mind whispered nonsense to him. Irrational, stupid words that would never happen. He pushed back with all his force, but there were facts to Lance. He teased Keith too far yesterday for stealing his food. He had the right to be mad at Lance. Lance messed up too far to the point Keith refused to show his art like he’d usually do with enthusiasm.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keith?” He kept calling out a bit too quiet. “Keith?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He constricted his throat to prevent himself from breathing too much, too fast. But he the lack of air made the world blur. “Keith?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was this it? Was this the end for them? Was Keith finally done with him? Done with all of his nonsense every single day? Lance stepped over the line. He’d gone too far and now he lost him. He lost keith too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you think we need more milk t— Lance? What’s wrong?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When he turned around and saw him putting away something to a nearby rack and ran to Lance, he couldn’t help but crash onto him, even if his mind tells him otherwise. He wasn’t gone yet. He’s still here. He hadn’t left.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A pair of arms was on his back. “You’re shaking… Come on, let’s go home.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, Lance, it’s not your fault.” Keith pulls away to look into him. “I think I didn’t say it loud enough for you to hear that I was going to another aisle. I’m sorry.” He abandoned the grocery in the store and lead them into the car, passing the crowd, They went in and Keith turned on the air conditioners.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thanks.” The knots and wrinkles in his whole body loosened up. “I’m sorry. I’m being such a baby here.” He laughed bitterly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keith scowled at that self-deprecating laugh which Lance knew it’s one of the many weird Keithy ways of showing endearment.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alright, alright, I’ll stop apologizing for now. You should get the groceries, though. I didn’t mean to screw it up.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The scowl on his face softened. “Forget the groceries, Lance. It doesn’t matter. What happened to you there?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He fidgeted like a child that got caught lying. “I…” He couldn’t bring himself to explain why, how, or what had really happened there. He just kind of.. lost his mind. It’s not the first time Keith witnessed this from the start where they’d been still dating.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So maybe that’s why Keith knew what’s going on inside his head as if he read his mind.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It really doesn’t bother me, Lance. It never does.” Maybe Lance got burned again by those fierce eyes that’s so sure of what he believes in and never even once wavers. For a moment there, Lance wanted to jump out of the car and run a hundred miles.“I’ll never leave you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When he knew he couldn’t reply, Keith continued, “I promise you.” He looked as if about to cry hot tears mixed with many emotions Lance didn’t know in eternal flames.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll always be with you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lance? Hellooo. Earth to Lance.” A hand waves in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Yeah? What is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pidge scoots back to the driver’s seat. “I was asking if you got my coffee.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right here.” He opens one of the bag and reaches for it…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there’s no coffee in it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Crap, I forgot.” He unlocks the car door. “It won’t take long. I promise!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pidge only sighs at him. A tinge of abnormality bothered him. They would usually stab him with sarcasm on spot by now for being clumsy and forgetful.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~~~~~~~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Lance, could you, uh, cook the eggs for me, please? My hands are kinda full now.” Hunk asks from the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” he answers, wiping the table one more time to make sure it’s spotless before going to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, man.” He huffs while adding salt, sugar, and pepper to the sauteed vegetables.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No problemo.” Lance grabs the eggs to crack them one by one. Sizzling with smoke, the alluring smell from hunk’s pan made his stomach growl. “Smells good already.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t steal it before everyone’s arrived and ready to eat,” he orders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance laughs in breaths, “Yes, chef.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They fall into a harmonic dynamic filled with the sounds of cooking, stirring in the bowl, chopping, and loud thoughts of what’s the next step. Lance’s contently humming to himself while doing his work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hunk breaks their flow. “Lance?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ll get the spatula. I think I saw it in the laundry room. Pidge took it for their experiment for some reason.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Oh, thank you. So that’s where it the spatula is,” he murmurs to himself, “but that’s not what I meant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance stops cutting the garlic and turns to him. “What’s up, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Pidge said you went to that beach again for the first time. How have you been doing, man? It’s surprising for you to go there on your own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It does has been a while since the last time he went there. After all, they used to spend a lot of time together there and it’s full of other memories.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s been weird lately, but I’m feeling better than usual.” He’s not lying. He doesn’t want to lie to his friends. He’ll try to hide if he could, but he’d never try to lie to them, especially when Lance’s night terrors and frequent dissociation in conversations are very apparent to everyone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s great to hear.” Hunk pats his shoulder and Lance’s affections for his friend grows more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks away, as if trying to find the right words. “So, uh, you might hate me for this…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would I hate you?” He scoffs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But… It was for your own good. I mean, seeing you suffering so much… I just couldn’t bring it up for a long time… “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” How could he hate </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hunk. </span>
  </em>
  <span>How could </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>hate him. It’s practically illegal to hate such an innocent cinnamon roll like his best friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I remembered when we had a trip to that beach and then it suddenly came to me that Keith forgot something at my place when he left before he got into the accident. I wanted to give it back after the funeral, but I, uh, accidentally saw his sketchbook in it and thought it would be hard for you to see it so early. So I kept it from you all this time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes— most times, Lance is taken aback at how considerate his friends are and thought of what did he do to deserve them all in his life. Well, maybe his dramatic reactions and shenanigans has brought them together, but, still, he’s very touched. He is curious of what’s in the sketchbook that Hunk couldn’t bear to share it to Lance for years. And, Hunk’s right. Maybe he’s ready to face it now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll give it to you after dinner, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance nods a little too enthusiastic. But, he is thrilled to see a part of Keith he hasn’t seen yet. Keith only showed few parts of his sketchbook to him and never to anyone else. He said it’s a work in progress and didn't want to ruin the surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll always be with you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coran! Coran! The gorgeous man!” He sings to the pink snapchat filter. The filter plays it back with a high pitched voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance doesn’t want to miss a single chance of photobombing anyone’s selfie with ridiculous facial expressions. In this case, a white eyed duck face. Coran doesn’t seem to mind, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone’s having fun at dinner. With Hunk’s amazing cooking that warms every smile and light-hearted chats on the table. Everything seems perfect and content for Lance. He does, however, steal glances to the empty chair at the end of the table. The chair he used to sit at at events like these.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, he swears he hears his bark of laughter joining the group whenever Lance embarrasses himself or when Pidge delivers a flawless snark or when Coran tells about this youthful days. And, maybe he’s gone mad or something, but sometimes, he sees his silhouette right where it used to be, where it’s supposed to be and the form would smile back at him upon noticing Lance’s stray gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He forgot to reorganize his music playlist before putting it on shuffle. A song by Jon McLaughin called So Close plays through the speaker softly. Everyone is too occupied with each other to notice the song, but Lance isn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You're in my arms</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And all the world is calm</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The world was still, as if time had slowed only for both of them. Tenderly moving from side to side and attached to each other in each step. His black silk hair tickled Lance’s neck as it falls. He smoothed over the paint-stained knuckles where their hands meet and hums with the song he doesn’t know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The music playing on for only two.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t want to open his eyes, if he did, they’d stop drifting above the clouds and he’d have to melt under his violet eyes and drown in them forever. But he felt the spot where Keith laid his head on his shoulder become wet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So close together</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s wrong?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You don’t know this song?” He lift his head, and, yes, Lance did melt like snow in the morning sun upon meeting his eyes for the millionth time. If it weren’t for the sheds of tears falling, he’d kiss him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And when I’m with you</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s wrong with the song, hun?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> So close to feeling alive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t like the lyrics.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A life goes by</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keith detached himself to change the song to classical music. He was about to mourn the loss of contact before Keith slipped into his arms again, sighing contently.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Better,” Keith said, “the Youtube autoplay plays weird stuff sometimes.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He chuckled in agreement. Their lines fit perfectly together. Every curve and linear made for each other. Heartbeat pulsed in sync with each breath taken. He wished he could be in his embrace for as long as the universe exist.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Blue.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, red?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What if I die one day and you wouldn’t know about it?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He stopped their slow waltz and looked into him. Sadness still glistened on his face. What in the world had he been thinking about?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why would you say that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “Just a thought.” He bit his bottom lip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lance had seen vulnerable Keith many times. In the morning when he’s still asleep, pressing his cheeks closer to Lance’s stomach. When he’s lying on the couch while focusing on every stroke of his pencil to the paper. Or when he’s drained and exhausted to the bones like now. He’d lean his weight on Lance, either seeking comfort to soothe his sore muscles or he’s too tired to carry his own weight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But this vulnerable Keith— scared Keith, was rare. Keith had always kept to himself, especially his fears. One time, Lance had awoken to thrashing movement beside him and incoherent mumbles, “l’nce, whrear you?” “Please, ‘on’tdie.”.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It'd took him years of patiently teasing his way into that locked shell of his. But when he did finally get in, he never stopped seeing surprises since then.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But what if you don’t,” he said firmly to shake him out of the bad idea from his head, “because I have my Keithy-senses to tingle me when something bad happens you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He prided himself for making him laugh. It’s his favourite sound in the world.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll buy a private jet to fly to you in a few seconds and hold your hand until your coffin separates us both.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He grinned wider, hitting Lance lightly on the shoulder. “Stop, that’s ridiculous.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“By then, I’ll visit your tombstone everyday to paint ugly drawings on it or maybe I’ll bring my pillow to stay there and mourn for your mullet that keeps growing longer in there.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll burst out from my grave to stop your vandalism.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His laughter was contagious, Lance couldn’t help but mirror him. “It’ll be worth it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They stayed like that. Hand on hand. Hip on hip. Eyes on eyes. They spoke in the silent language. Words they’d developed over the times they’ve spent together. Glances only both of them could understand. One meaningful touch to another.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lance got to kiss him that time after all: Careful and comforting. An “it’s okay” kiss. An “everything’s going to be alright” hand at Keith’s nape. He held him closer to feel the life he’s been living for.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Your lips are red,” he said out of breath, “but your kisses are blue. Baby blue. Light and soothing.” He let go and walked back to his studio. “I know the perfect colour now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Red?” He asked for him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No. blue,” he answered another question.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have something against warm orange juice?” Shiro steps sits beside him on the porch, holding two glass of juice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but I do have something against the impending dad-talk behind the warm orange juice.” He takes the offered glass. “But thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mention it.” He only lightly laughs, not offended at all. “I’m going to ignore what you said and ask how you’re feeling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance sighs, not because of that question again, but because of the unanswered questions that made a come back on him after knowing Keith had a sketchbook he’s been hiding from Lance all this time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Shiro. I’ve been thinking of Keith a lot lately.” He takes a sip of his drink. The sweet orange filled his mouth and warms its way down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He keeps hiding things from me, even after he’s gone. Hunk just said he’s been keeping Keith’s sketchbook all this time so I won’t break further.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s like him.” Shiro laughs again, with weight this time. “Have you seen it yet?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, not yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think that the things inside the sketchbook will bother you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, but if Hunk is acting like this, then it’s probably something important.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finds himself hypnotized by the few stars in the black sky and whispered sweet nothings by the green leaves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll always be with you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s unlike Shiro to let his guard down. His usual self-composed and assured figure is replaced with someone more youthful and unsure like any other lost people in this world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I remember when Keith was fixated on blue.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he almost bought all the furnitures in blue before I convinced him there are other great colours other than that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why was he so into blue that time?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He said it reminds him of me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s sweet of him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I don’t get it. He’s very insistent on it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shiro hums in understanding. “You know, when he around seven years old, he used to come to my room at three in the morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance imagines tiny, mullet Keith with puppy eyes begging to sleep with his big bro while clutching his pillow. His heart swells.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At first I thought he was scared of sleeping alone in the dark,” he continued, “but when I saw that he’s sleeping soundly in the basement to avoid our parents’ guests upstairs, I realised that’s not the problem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was it then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t want to let me sleep alone.” The whole area is poured with shadow. Grey clouds covering the moonlight that once gave them light. “And, I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or not but my nightmares stopped showing up when he finally let me be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The conversation is cut short by a sudden downpour. They both hurry inside before getting drenched in the cold rain. They don’t need to continue the conversation. Lance got the message Shiro was trying tell, but he still doesn’t understand how it connects to Keith’s fixation on blue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He asks Shiro regarding it after cleaning up, but he says that it’s best for him to let time flow first and he’ll eventually understand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about you take a look in what’s inside his sketchbook,” he answers while putting on shoes to leave. It’s already past midnight. “I’m sure he won’t mind if it’s you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know what’s inside of it?” He leans against the doorframe. Everybody went home early, leaving only the household and Shiro on the way out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but I have an idea of what’s making Hunk so reluctant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opens the umbrella, walking to his car that’s parked nearby and waves to Lance. Before he turns to close the door, Shiro honks the car, nearly startling him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take care, Lance! And good luck!” He shouts from the opened window.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wishes him back and stays there until the sight of his car vanishes to distance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hunk said he’s going to grab the thing from his unoccupied house, so Lance is currently sitting right here, on the couch, left foot vibrating, hands bouncing on knees, sitting straight up. Waiting. And he waits, and waits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He groans, frustrated to himself. Why is he getting so worked up about seeing only a sketchbook? What more could he possibly see there except Keith’s drawings? Did he write some top secret military stuff in there or something? Or was he secretly a furry and that sketchbook is filled wi— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance stands up and paces around the couch instead of waiting for the ticking bomb to go off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What could he possibly hide from Lance all this time again?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Lance, have you seen my glasses?” Pidge almost startled him. They’re in their pyjamas, still untouched by sleep. They haven’t slept yet?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He frowns. “You’re wearing them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh—” He takes them off. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” They laugh uncharacteristically. “Thanks, Lance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” Where is Hunk?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, do you mind if I talk about Keith for a while?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s okay. What about him?” Lance sits on the couch again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They follow Lance. “Hunk is getting the sketchbook, isn’t he?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blinks. “You know about it too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Have they all been tip-toeing around him and hiding this for years? And Lance was the only one who didn’t know it’s not missing? What else is he going to discover? The sky is an illusion all along?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I didn’t know until the exhibition yesterday.” They reposition their glasses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why the hell would that connect to the sketchbook?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Slow down, will you. Let me explain first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance zips his mouth and throws the key away. Okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They sigh. Now that he’s less of an unstoppable force, he sees the heavy weight on their shoulder as they slump forward, elbows on both knees. Coffee didn’t fix this? Is it that bad?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t told anyone about this yet. Thought that it’s best if you’re the first to know.” They start. “I met Keith’s old friend there and co-worker, Rolo. He saw Rover’s blue colour and joked about how his friend used to be crazy for blue. I went along with him and said I had one like that too. He looked like he’s seconds from freaking out completely then mentioned Keith’s name.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And then what happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shh, I’m not done yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He locks his mouth again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He said he’s been looking for someone else other than him who knows Keith, especially you, Lance. Keith never shut up about his husband to him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me? He wants to tell me something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, actually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pidge sighs lightly, eyebrows furrowed in. “He died in an accident, right? Hit and run?’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well…” They trail off, looking like they’re trying to put the words in a lighter way. “Keith knew about his death.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, he knew it was coming on that day. Rolo said— “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean he knew it was coming? Did he go to a fortune teller or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pidge leans back slightly due to Lance leaning too close to their face. They push him back to his spot on the couch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know him, right, Lance? He would often correctly guess things out of the blue.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But that’s because it coincidentally matched his drawings! He joked about it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did he? Really? Is it possible for someone who never watched the news to guess a massacre was going to happen? And was it really a coincidence to “joke” about a storm that he drew, told us to stay inside and then it actually came later that day? Or were they visions he got and put it into his art?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t process it. Keith knew his death was coming? And he didn’t bother to tell Lance? Hell, he didn’t bother to say goodbye to him?! All those years of mourning and crying in front of the dumb rock with his name on it, talking about what he wish he could’ve said and done to him, about all the things the last cookies he should’ve given to him instead of keeping them all to himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rolo wanted you to see his sketchbook, especially the one he used before the accident.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re saying that he forced me to stay at home that time because he knew what was going to happen?” He laughed, tasting disbelief in his own voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pidge is not laughing with him. They only nod with a fallen look, waiting for him to react or explode in any given moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he’s not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance keeps quiet until Pidge decides to leave him alone when he doesn’t respond and wishes him a good night. Lance goes to his room after Pidge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He recalled what Shiro said to him a few hours ago. Keith was always drawn to scribbling on the walls and every surface area possible, Shiro once told him. Random symbols and shapes that made out something a child shouldn’t have known yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One by one, the pieces starts to unblur together. He can’t make out what the whole thing is or means yet. Everything came in too fast, too many at once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Hunk’s been keeping it to himself all this time, does that mean he knows about it too? Or about something Lance doesn't know yet?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thunder boomed outside, shaking the windows and ground slightly. He flinches violently at the sound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rain. It was raining that day, wasn’t it? The day he called him. Lance was blissfully ignorant of what’s happening in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A knock on the door makes him let out an unmanly yelp. He rushes to open the door, seeing Hunk as surprised as he is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hunk! Don’t give me a heart attack!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, you didn’t hear me coming in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No?” Rain pounds harder against his window.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, right. The rain. Sorry. Anyway, here’s the book.” He hands him a cheap dollar-store sketchbook that Lance used to see Keith bringing it around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cover is loose from its content and lots of the papers are very well worn. It’s filled with splashes of colours at the edge. This one is the book Keith used just before he died and the one Keith didn’t want him to see.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hunk yawns and stretches his back slightly. “I’m gonna go ahead. You ok?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” He doesn’t take his eyes off of it. “Yeah, sure. Thank you, Hunk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anytime, Lance.” There’s a smile in his voice. “Goodnight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hears footsteps walking away and the sound of a door opening. “Hey, Hunk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Lance?” He turns to him, the door knob in hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did you keep this from me? I mean, I’m not accusing you or anything. I’m just curious.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thought his best friend would say the same thing like in the kitchen, that he didn’t want Lance to suffer more than he already did, but, to be honest, everyone is still mourning over Keith’s death, not just Lance. It’s unusual for Hunk to keep something important about a family member from everyone for a long time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he wouldn’t have guessed for him to say this, “I’m sorry. I overheard your conversation with Pidge just now and now you know about it too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Too?” He echoes. “You mean… you—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, he didn’t tell me directly, but I suspected it, and my suspicion was confirmed when I saw what’s inside there. There was one time where I never told anyone about planning to bake your birthday cake, but Keith suddenly bought me the exact rare butter brand I needed for it. I saw him sketching it before that. Thought it was weird for him to draw butter out of all things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Words stops working for him, so Hunk continues, “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me right now, so… I’ll— “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No— Wait. Hunk! I’m not mad, I’m just— I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hunk sticks around the corridor, waiting for him to say something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance exhales a shaky breath. “I’m mad at Keith, not you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Why—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shoots him a look, not quite directed to Hunk. Maybe, he hopes, Keith is haunting him right now, or watching him closely from somewhere else so he could hear the exact words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If he knew about all of this, he could’ve prevented it. I don’t know, Hunk, like— “He takes a breath. “Maybe, ban both of us from driving or actually tell me the truth he’s been burdening on his own?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lance,” he starts gently, “I’m sure he had good reasons to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then tell me,” he says, desperation growing thick, “what were they?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought about the same thing too, until I saw what he drew there.” Hunk sighs, looking more weary like the rest of their group.” Lance, he loves you more than you realise it, more than you know. So, please. I know that you want to kick his spirit butt right now, but I’m one hundred percent sure he would’ve done any other way to prevent anyone from getting hurt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why didn’t Lance see anything? They’ve been together for a long time, been standing side by side for a long time. Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he leave anything? Why didn’t he even say goodbye? Did he not understand how hard it was for Lance to not be able to say goodbye for the last time?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I get it, but, I just still can’t process it yet.” He slumps against the doorframe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know. It’s okay, bud. you’ll get around it soon, but take your time.” He smiles. “Have faith in him”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance gives back a half-hearted one, but Hunk seems to understand. Hunk’s door clicks shut. Lance bolts back to his room and locks the door. He flops on the bed, leaning against the headboard, trying to get comfortable, turning on the night-light beside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opens the first page.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>White. Blank, except for at the top corner is a familiar messy handwriting “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Keith Kogane” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and visible embedded pencil marks that looks it’s erased for several attempts because the paper is crumpled and falling off, dust by dust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few pages more have the same blank sheet that’s been overused. He’s so restless, he almost missed a single drawing from flipping the pages too fast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a sketch. Messy, but each line has an expression of its own. It’s only a drawing of someone’s bare back, but Lance immediately </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>that it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>back— he should marry his artskills instead. That familiar head shape and body curve lying comfortably on the sheets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith drew him in his sleep?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sneaky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs quietly with the ache in his chest growing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Flipping the pages, he finds more unfinished sketches of Lance— he can’t blame him. Lance is never in the same spot for a minute. Staring thoughtfully at a steamy mug. Drooling on someone's lap— he knows those black jeans so well— with arms circling Keith’s waist. Looking out the window, light bouncing off his features. Smiling with his eyes creased.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All those times he thought Keith was busy doing a project when the truth is he was studying Lance closely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The others have stunning paintings of lions that’re in shades of each colour, more commonly, red and blue in the same painting together. Purple shades belongs to dynamic fighting figures or flowers. Pink bouquet. Orange facial expressions. Yellow and gold armors. Various green plants.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Green lion in a rich jungle with fresh green trees, dangling vines surrounding the lion, and clean grass where the lion is pouncing behind with the blue lion not far off her. The blue lion watched her intently instead of the prey. Is she teaching him how to hunt?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yellow lion is with the other coloured lions under a tree at a vast savana. The bright yellow sun at the back. The lion is bringing food to her family.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Black lion is in a cave with the other lions sleeping soundly but him. He looked above to billions of stars and planets with unspoken words of reassurance that the world is too big to understand, but it’ll be alright.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red lion is playing in the river, splashing water with every step. Carefree. Light bouncing off of the droplets, creating dazzling effect to see. Under the sun is the blue lion, sitting contently in the middle of poppies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the next paper, Keith’s handwriting is so messy that he almost mistook it as a random doodle. He reads the lines with a frown.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Remember to add baby blue and buy paint when there’s free time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it’s written in a rush.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next page is more weighted than the others. It’s filled with blue paint bleeding all over and it’s unattached to the rest of the sketchbook.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watches that one painting longer than the others. He knows the object of the painting is him again, but not only the paint is bleeding over the paper, emotions also comes out in every visible brush stroke in it. All combining into a soft but dishevelled texture as if the painting itself feels the emotions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s something about this piece that whispers to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels his cheeks wet and wipes it before tears fall down to the paintings. He tries to stop, truly, but the realisation hit him again and again with every racing thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn it, you bastard.” He wants to laughs. Instead, he bit his lips harder, muffling his voice so the other wouldn’t be woken up by his strangled sobs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance clutches the sketchbook in his arms closely, trying to engrave it into his heart forever so when he’s wrinkly and grey, the painting would be the only thing that could make him remember of his beloved until he sees him, standing besides his bed. He’d grab ahold of those gentle hands again, letting them lead him to the afterlife together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Until then, he’ll see the world the way Keith wanted him to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, Lance was wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t break his promise after all.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He woke up in the middle of the night. Cold sweat ran down his forehead. He could scarcely recognize the smudged lines and old colours making up his bedroom in the dark. His hands instantly patted beside him in frantic search of a soundly sleeping Lance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hand landed another warm palm on the sheets and all the lines made sense to his vision now. Keith scooched and wrapped himself inside his arms, melting against his steady heartbeat with a sigh. Lance stirred at the sudden movement around him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keef? Wha’s wong?” He said, eyes barely cracked open still in the haze of sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just a bad dream.” He put a lingering kiss on his bare shoulders. “It’s okay. Go back to sleep, blue.” Lance hummed in content while tightening his arms around Keith’s back, burying his face further in his hair as a reply and went back to sleep in seconds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let his attention and focus on the rhythmical rise and fall of Lance’s chest, the tickling blow of his breath against his crown hair, the radiating heat he'd always gave to him in cold times that warms him to his very core, chasing all the bone-chilling images away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was finally told— or rather, shown when it would happen through his dreams this time, making it more vivid than flashes of images in the day. But he knew the details clearer because of that, which increased the possibility of it becoming worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rain dripping backwards. The loud crackling of fireworks shaking the ground and his head. Colourful lights reflected by shards of glass mixed with mud. And the most frequent thing he’d ever seen since he’d lain eyes the first time on Lance and knowing that he’s his soulmate: The colour of red drenching Lance’s favourite blue shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s tomorrow. And Lance’d been dying to go to the fireworks festival for </span>
  <em>
    <span>months</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He hadn’t realise it would come so soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even if it always bothered him, he had to thank them for leading him to Lance McClain, the most brilliant blue he had ever met. But, everything has its own flip side of the coin. Of course he knew what follows after the images of their bright selves and he’s willing to risk it all, even if it’s only for a short period of time. Lance made his life more colourful than it had ever been in his entire life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith had tried to prevent an impending disaster once or twice or thrice before he’d accepted that there’s nothing he could do to stop it. It had to happen. Every disaster lead to a change, and the change would lead to another unknown consequences, whether it’s for a good one or a bad one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s one time he had decided to interfere with the cycle. But fate had been mocking onto the puny human for attempting to change something that was meant to be. He saved a dog from getting hit by stopping the owner to pet the dog, but turns out the driver that’s supposed to crash into the dog slipped, lost control, and drifted into a store, killing multiple people at once in front of his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second attempt had been when he saved Hunk from buying that butter and getting into a robbery there. He’s supposed to be shot there, but instead, another person was replaced for his absence. Right at the heart. Perfectly matching the spot Keith had seen, only from a different chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith had never been the type to tell every detail of his life to someone, but he almost had asked Shiro about why no one but him seemed to have the experience and had been reminded why he shouldn’t even think about mentioning it out loud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d been only around seven, but he’d understood what the universe’d been telling him: It had threatened him. By a series of little events that snowballs into an avalanche of irreversible tragedy shown to him during the brief pocket of time he’s in whenever the images were shoved in front of his eyes. The horror of knowing </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>could’ve happened if he slipped a single word about seeing the future sealed his mouth shut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He never dared to even consider speaking it to anyone since then. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t leave little bread crumbs, in hopes that someone would pick it up. The universe eyed him for that, but didn’t do anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why Keith? Why did he possess this power? If it even was a power to begin with. All he could do was </span>
  <em>
    <span>watch </span>
  </em>
  <span>as people die around him and not having the power to even delay it. He’s has the sword to fight back, but the chains are holding him to the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was there a reason for him to have it? To live? He’d rather be blind to the future or be blind entirely. There must be a reason for him to have it, but no matter how deep he went, he couldn’t see a single change he’d made, anything worthwhile. He’s absolutely useless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why me?” he whispered to himself while brushing strands of hair from Lance’s serene face, unaware of the world’s vicious cycle he’s caught in. “Why him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had to happen, didn’t it? Somebody had to die in that car crash.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red didn’t suite Lance. The images were wrong, but they kept showing up, insisting, ridiculing him that he could never stop it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red was for Keith only, not him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is wrong with you?! I’m the one who’s supposed to go there, not you! You said you have a deadline tomorrow to finish! Why did you suddenly change your mind?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Keith’s willing to change fate for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Lance, but trust me in this one and don’t go anywhere,” he begged, his constricted airways nearly choking his words, “please, blue, ” He hadn’t slept a blink last night. He’d been trying to come up with a thousand of ways to stop it, but nothing would work, but at least he had a plan. A messed up plan. He could only hope for the best outcome.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me why.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“First you refused to go with me, changed your mind and now you won’t tell me why? Why do you keep hiding things from me?” He nearly shouted. “Am I really that unreliable to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not that! If I mention it, you’ll di—” Everything froze. He’s wrapped in distorted, muddled, images screaming at his face. Thousands of deaths and prolonged suffering impending if one life wasn’t sacrificed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blinked back to the real time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance opened his mouth. Keith knew he wanted to shout at him, show him how mad he was at him for being completely unreasonable for no explanation, for hiding again from him. But, maybe, he saw through his ridiculous demands and noticed the desperation in him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I didn’t know you better, I would’ve thought you’re being an asshole right now, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Go enjoy the festival all by yourself.” He grumbled, crossing his arms and turned away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” he dismissed coldly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith couldn’t leave like this. Obscurity be damned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m very sorry. Please, forgive me for this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ticking silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No matter what happens, Lance, I love you more than anything in the world.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That captured his interest, but not enough to make him notice. “Stop it. Don’t sweet talk me.” Keith knew that’s a facade. Time keeps running, urging him to leave. “Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>go.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted to reach to him, to grab his wrist and run away together to somewhere, </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere; </span>
  </em>
  <span>anywhere. A place that’s timeless, devoid of all tears and pain. A place they could simply be afloat together. To the stars. To the empty space. An alternate universe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anywhere.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there’s no such place they could go to, so he left the room, left the house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He left Lance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith brought out the keys, tried to insert it, but he couldn’t aim in the right direction. He balled his shaking fists, slamming the dashboard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get it together, Keith,” he said between his teeth, huffing out his breaths for a couple of seconds. His jaw muscles went sore and rigid when he slowly released its grit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had to move now. The fireworks’ start in a few hours. He couldn’t afford interrupting the cycle when he’s gone this far just because he couldn’t keep his emotions intact. With several more attempts of getting the damn key, he hastily turned on the engines and drove away, away to the end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>First he went to Rolo’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door swung open after he rung the bell several times. “Dude, why do you look so p—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve to listen to me. I don’t have much time left. I—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, hold on a second, Keith, what do you mean—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rolo, this is urgent! Do me a favor, please!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay… ?” He stepped back to let Keith in and shut the door behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith leaned against the wall and recollected his words. “I ran out of blue paint in my house. I need yours.” That’s not only it. His artist friend/co-worker had guessed that he could see the future. Keith’d dismissed it, but he knew Rolo knew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolo opened his mouth to question his strange, ridiculous behaviour. Maybe he knew Keith too well to be shocked to see him so distressed and all over the place. “I really wanna ask, bro, but… Okay, follow me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walked into his studio, as messy and creative as other artists with personal touches everywhere. Once Rolo showed him his supplies, Keith began working immediately, not wasting a second. He almost let a few tears drop to the painting he’d stopped because of the stupid deadline, but managed to finally finished it in a few minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s perfect. Just what he would like to see. This painting’s his own crafted image of the future. His own future.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heard a whistle from behind. “Cool. Your husband would flip if he saw that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you do one more thing for me,” he said while fanning the acrylic paint. He’s lucky Rolo had paint that dry very fast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what’s up, man?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be coming back from now on, so can you tell him about this painting once I’m gone?” Keith tucked the weighted piece of paper into his sketchbook.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, but why aren’t you tellin’ him yourself? And where’re you goin’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, he can’t know about it this too early.” Rolo didn’t realise Keith hadn’t told him where he lived or how to contact Lance. They’d never even met each other. “You’ll find out eventually. I have to go now. Thank you for everything.” Keith smiled. “Goodbye, Rolo”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked like he had more questions, but once he saw Keith’s expression towards him and that rare smile, he was taken aback. Keith took this opportunity to cut him off and turned on his car. He saw him running, trying to catch up with his car, “Keith!”, but gave up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith casually visited Hunk next to “drop” his belongings there, with an excuse of wanting to chat for a while and pretend he forgot about something and he left in a rush. He knew Hunk knew something’s off too and would always do what’s best for his best friend, so he trusted his belongings to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thirty minutes left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have much time left to be able to leave messages to his friends and Shiro. There’s little to be regretted anyway. The only thing he’d regret was that he couldn’t see Pidge’s latest invention. He’d prepared for this day from the moment he decided to meet Lance, but… it’s too soon. He thought they would at least have another five years or more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tired and tried, but he couldn’t remove his thoughts of him. His bright smiles, playful smugs, constellation of freckles, ocean blue eyes, childish and adorable whinings in the middle of the night. The times they’d spent together, the laughters that brought tears to his eyes for several minutes non-stop. The inside jokes and nicknames they gave to people and they’d snickering together while the others gave them confused looks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith would miss Lance in his bed hair, looking so gorgeous wherever he stood. The hushed nights of intimate whispers of their deepest fears. His skin would miss the warmth of his body in lazy mornings with slow and gentle kisses. He would miss the songs playing in his phone speakers while he had a dance off with Lance that would always end up in a soft waltz in the dark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dinners they went with the group. Coran scaring Lance and Hunk off with a myth. Allura discussing about work with Shiro. Hunk’s cooking. Pidge’s ramble about their latest discovery. Playing sand-ball in the salty ocean without a care in the world. Popping the question under the glowing moonlight and cool breeze stabbing his eyes with hair. Their magical wedding full of flowers and joyful tears everywhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was happy, wasn’t he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The happiest he’d been in his entire life and it’s all Lance McClain’s fault for bringing such blissful memories.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe, he’d meant to be given visions to meet Lance. Maybe he’s the reason for everything Keith had gone through. Maybe the reason Keith’s alive was to save him from this tragedy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, it’s not “maybe” anymore. It’s “definitely”. This time, Keith’s the one who would decide the future.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fate be damned, he’s not going to give in anymore. He’s not going to let it take Lance away, even if it means leaving him alone until they meet again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith wiped the tears away to clear his vision. He drove to the destination, passing by a road with steep end beside him, making sure every turn was safe, every mirror checked, seatbelt secured, traffic rules obeyed, in the slightest hope of stopping it or at least minimizing the damage. Maybe, then, he could survive the crash. He’ll lose an organ or two, but maybe he’ll live. Maybe he’ll outwit fate by driving very— </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely </span>
  </em>
  <span>careful. And then no one would get hurt because he went exactly where he should be and drove safely. Nothing changed, none disturbed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At a sharp turn, a car blared its honk in from of him, eyes blinded by lights and he lost control of his wheels. His car hit something, sending his whole body twist and turn, spinning in no direction. Everything went too fast for him to see, to react until the back of his head took a blow. Black engulfed him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He awoke to a sound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not yet opening his eyes, he heard loud, booming crackles of fireworks and felt the ground vibrating slightly. He winced at his head throbbing worse than shivering fevers at night. Limbs numbing from cold and something else and neck stretched far down (or up?)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the ear-ringing sounds stopped, he realised the Voltron theme song was from his phone ringing and it’s raining.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He saw rainbow light shimmering from shards of glass on the mud. Droplets trickling upwards his face. Rain streaming around him. He looked up, regretted moving too sudden. Every inch of his body screamed white-hot pain and his abdomen became more wet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that’s when he finally saw it: Red painted all over him. A branch or metal, something emerged from his side, unnaturally attaching into him. The blood rushing out tickled his chest and neck and dried up a part of his hair like paper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cold. He shivered. Keith slowly, painfully reached his phone that dropped behind him. He almost passed out once or twice during the attempt, but laughed as he successfully grabbed it, successfully outwitted fate itself. Now Lance was free from this tragedy. He laughed and laughed, nearly passing out again and coughing a spat of blood or two. Either from lack of oxygen; disoriented, or the glee joy of winning. Fate couldn't control Keith anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was from Lance. Huh, he did have Keithy senses, didn’t he? Keith pressed the accept button, turned on the loudspeaker and flopped his phone on the dirt right beside his dangling head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I— ” brief shuffling. “I’m sorry. I was the one who’s being an asshole. I don’t understand your intentions sometimes, but it’s a jerk for me for even having a second thought about you. And, I, um, don’t know what to say.” More shuffling. “I’m sorry. I don't want us to fight. I’m so— ”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lance.” His vision blurred. Not quite sure if it’s the blood or tears trickling down his face. “It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? So… we’re good? You’re not mad at me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted to laugh again, but he was too tired. They finally made up at the end after all. Keith could rest his mind now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. Nope”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The speakers rattled. Lance was sighing. “Good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Keith parroted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They fall into a comfortable silence until another round of fireworks rattles the sky. Bummer that Keith couldn’t see it in that angle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Soooo how’s’t there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>It reminds me of you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I bet.” He heard a smile in his voice. “Hey, I was thinking if we could visit the beach again after you’re done with work? Ya know, to loosen up a bit…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That, he could do, but not what Lance would want. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s with your voice?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fell asleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You fell asleep to the fireworks blasting in your face?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Weirdo, but I guess work wore you out yesterday, huh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Everything spinned. His stomach churned a new set of discomfort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you falling asleep again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Don’t drive, red. I’ll get a taxi to pick you up right now. Love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Love you.” He paused, trying to catch breaths. Lightheaded and organizing the foggy thoughts. “I’ll always be with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'll be there in your blues. I’ll be in every colour of your life, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wanted to say to make him laugh last time. Couldn't gather up the energy to do so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance chuckled fondly, his heart flutter more, not because blood steady flow from abdomen his. “You’re a softie when you’re sleep deprived, did ya know that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He huffed a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See you in an ho</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He buries his toes in warm, grainy sand, feeling the wind rustling his hair. The view of vast blue ocean with clear skies that stretches beyond the horizon pulls up his cheeks achingly. He shoves his hand into the pockets of his jacket and walks around mindlessly, indulging the lack of people there and hearing the waves rippling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘I’ll always be with you’ huh?” He chuckles. “And here I thought I was the romantic one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seagulls squawk in the distance. Lance sits himself down, both hands behind while leaning backwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, are you supposed to be everywhere now? Kinda stalkerish, if you ask me,” he joked. Lance can hear him snickering and come up with a perfect comeback until they bicker like they used to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But…” He looks down from the clouds passing by to his lap. “You know that doesn’t mean I won’t always miss you, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants to see his red again. He wants to hold his hands and walk around the beach under various colours of the sky like the old times. He wants to see his stupid mullet of his once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you’re meant to be? I’m meant to be blue and you’re red?” He says to in front of him, which is nothing but the sea. “Tell me everything you saw. I want to know everything you saw, you idiot. You didn’t have to burden all of this all by yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The waves crashes and wind blows hard, nudging his body. Lance exhales. Worn out by all the events from yesterday and because he cried himself to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That damn man was right. Even if Keith isn’t there physically with him, Lance can still feel his presence everywhere he goes. At the beach. Under the sky. Sunsets. Sunrises. In the dim night. Vast fields of grass. At the dinner they had yesterday. In the convenience store they used to shop at. In his new car while Pidge drives.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can still hear him humming to himself while making breakfast whenever Lance awoken, hear his laughters, feel his touch in their bed, feel his hand wiping away tears from Lance’s face while whispering feathery sweet words to his ears. He can still see his gentle smile directed to Lance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Lance doesn’t feel alone anymore because Keith never left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Keith,” he says softly to him. Eyebrows upturned fondly. “Thank you for loving me even if I’m being problematic. Thank for changing my life. Thank you for making me the luckiest man—” He takes a shaky breath, “the luckiest man alive, for everything you’ve given to me even if you knew.” He covers his eyes with a hand full of sand. “You knew you didn’t have a lot of time left.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels him smiling upon him from somewhere, wherever he is, saying things that Lance wants to hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance sniffles hard and tries to compose himself. “You know, I wish it was me instead of you.” He wipes his face with a sleeve. “I wish it was me there in the car instead of you.” But he can’t stop himself from breaking, so he kept both of his hands to his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lingers at the beach a bit more until Hunk and Pidge came running to him looking concerned. Pidge says they guessed Lance would be there and they drove all the way to him. He convinced them that he’s fine and didn’t do anything stupid like getting stung by a jellyfish or pinched by a crab. Relief washes over both them and they slide to the sand. Pidge fixes their skewed glasses and Hunk suggests to invite the others to the beach again while they’re at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance smiles at his heap of friends who were so worried about him that they came around looking where he is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s not alone after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back at the wall of his room— </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>room, Lance framed the painting and hung it in front of his bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An abstract and messy painting filled by various splashes of colours that matches to what’s happening to the group at the beach on a sunny Sunday with baby blue sky above them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yellow concentrating on building a sandcastle with green carrying a bucket full of sand. Black sunbathing leisurely with sunglasses on a beach blanket. Pink swimming around the shore on a float. Orange surfing a tall wave in the distance like he’s the king of the waves. And then there’s blue looking at his friends contently because fate didn’t touch him and Keith won the battle of life.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, you are welcomed to be mad at me in the comments or just send emotional comments in general.</p><p>My Klance Tumblr is purple-hunter<br/>Feel free to message me there or check out my blog</p><p>I'm also writing an original story in wattpad. Just a fyi.<br/>https://www.wattpad.com/story/254232729-ruellia</p></blockquote></div></div>
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